My early childhood was a happy life of BMX, crayons, new sketchbooks, aftenoons in the kitchen with ‘Annie’ preparing the cake tins, building Lego planets with my brother, time spent with my grandfather’s beautiful imagination and my father’s enriching pragmatism. A potter, sculptor and silversmith who began working life as an machinist at fifteen and a half to be promoted at eighteen to implement new industrial techniques followed by a promising career in economics, jacked it all in to become a potter at twenty five. It was he who encouraged me to finish my sketchbook drawings as larger works using oil paint on panels. I was already aware of Josef Herman’s work from our trips to Swansea to see family which often resulted in a visit to The Glynn Vivian. His painting Miners, 1951 made a mighty impact upon me. I loved its immense scale and it gave me an inclination of the possibilties of paint. Later when I was sixteen I visited a spellbinding exhibition of David Hockney life drawings and felt right at home. Fortuitously that day I also spent the afternoon in the Rothko room when it was located in the Tate (now Tate Britain). The academic but instinctive draftsmanship of Uncle David Hockney and Mark Rothko’s large scale mediative work collided in an experience that left me fulfilled in all senses. I felt these seemingly polemic painters were saying the same thing:
You are alive so tell me how that feels.
Feel free to contact me.
Everything seeks perfection but never achieves it. Imperfection is better. Try it. It’s easier to attain.
“Thousands of years of art history
and the safe money
is still on a picture of a naked girl.”